Chapter 9

Finally the bands hit the road and the tension that had settled between Vanessa’s shoulder blades eased up a bit. She couldn’t even say what the issue was. The area had been secured—the Winter’s Wrath crew didn’t mess around and she felt much better knowing they’d be close. With all five of XVI Hours’ members constantly splitting up she hadn’t been sure how she’d keep an eye on them.

At least there was a limited number of scheduled stops on the way to California. Balthazar had remained on this bus to go over security protocol with her, giving her some tips as she pulled out venue layouts and the floor plans of the next few hotels. Connor had stuck around too—she had a feeling both men were worried about their wife—and their ability to keep Annette calm was more than welcome. The young woman was a champ, doing her best to tough out the complete upheaval of her typically relaxed routine, but Vanessa could tell the situation was getting to her.

Annette couldn’t get off the bus without Vanessa and Balthazar screening the area first. Every piece of mail, every online post, was vetted by Vanessa and the men. Sadly, there was so much hate mail and assholes slipping into Annette’s DMs that the vocalist now avoided going online at all. The worst of the messages were forwarded to the detective on the case, but so far there were no leads to whoever was stalking her.

Then there was North, who frequently slipped away without warning, apologizing every time, but so impulsive it was like he couldn’t help himself. He was distracted, torn between concern for Annette, returning to the rhythm of touring, and…something else Vanessa still couldn’t figure out.

The unknown could be dangerous, so she was determined to get to the bottom of his issues.

And Oakley’s, but that was a completely different story. She looked up from where she’d been studying the floor plan for the hotel they’d be staying at in LA, lips curving as Oakley muttered to himself, reading over yet another blog by a tour manager on how to succeed in the business, earbuds in and the music on loud enough that she could make out the familiar orchestral suite by Gustav Holst.

Despite Jesse doing his best to keep things simple for Oakley, the XVI Hours’ green-as-fuck tour manager was determined to learn all he could, from every source available, before they hit their first venue. He seemed more comfortable researching than actually spending time with the band, but he’d warmed up to them a bit since the recording yesterday and their first full day on the road.

Her initial impression of him being a poor-little-rich-boy didn’t fit the man she was slowly getting to know. He was nervous with the whole band, but understanding and attentive to them one-on-one. Not twenty minutes ago he’d put on some tea—he’d read about herbs that relaxed people and got all excited when he found them all in the cupboards, which Orion and Quinton had stocked yesterday. After fixing nine cups of the brew, he’d stopped, chewing on his bottom lip before making the rounds and asking if anyone would like some.

Thankfully, everyone said yes.

She’d been worried for a second there. He was trying so hard. The way he interacted with people was different, as though he wasn’t quite used to socializing at all. Give him a laptop and he was set. Try to pull him into a conversation and he stammered, inhaling in slow, deliberate breaths before schooling his features and joining in.

This job was overwhelming him, and she kinda hated his aunt for thrusting him into it. But Vanessa would bloody well make sure he’d succeed.

“He’ll be all right.” Balthazar set aside the map he’d been studying for the last hour, chuckling as Vanessa blinked at him. “You’re acting like he’s your favorite new recruit and you’ve got to put him through his paces, but you hate every damn second of it.”

She shook her head, setting the papers aside and leaning back against the sofa. “That obvious?”

“Yes, but I’ve been there. And you’re doing the right thing, not trying to hold his hand. Let him mess up. He needs to know he can without the world coming to an end.” Balthazar rolled his shoulders. “Though you should both be sleeping more. It doesn’t feel like you’re doing much, sitting around the bus, taking a turn at the wheel, but you’ll need your energy when we start doing back-to-back shows.”

“I’ve been through worse, Lieutenant. I’ve got this.”

Balthazar arched a brow. “Maybe, but does he?” He scratched his jaw, glancing over at Oakley, who obviously couldn’t hear a word over his music. Still, the security guard lowered his voice. “He’s all in and I respect that. But he’s taking your lead, without your training. I’d say he’s lived a sheltered life, but there’s more to it.”

“Which he isn’t comfortable sharing yet.” She gave Balthazar a level look. “I know you’re a mental health expert, but don’t push him.”

Lips slanted, Balthazar met her gaze, completely unfazed. “Didn’t plan on it. But if you’re going to be protective, make sure he doesn’t burn out the first few days on the road.”

All right, the man had a point. She’d noticed Oakley checking on the band while she did her rounds. Doing research when she did, as he was now. He’d decided she was the perfect example of how to handle the tour, which meant pushing himself on her pace, rather than finding his own.

She hadn’t been able to sleep last night, even though the band was safe on the bus. Knowing what they’d face in the next few days, coming up with a plan, going over every scenario in her head…it was like being on a mission, training for all possible outcomes.

But what was familiar to her was draining for him.

If she was going to set an example, it should be a good one.

“All right, I hear you.” Her lips quirked at Balthazar’s subtle nod—the man knew how to give orders without seeming to. Manipulative bastard. She pushed off the sofa, crossing the short space to nudge Oakley’s knee. He quickly pulled out his earbuds and stared up at her. She smiled at him. “Come on, soldier. You’re running on coffee and stubbornness. Time for some shuteye.”

“As soon as I finish this page, but you go ahead if you’re tired.” Oakley reached for the cup he’d set on the tray beside him, frowning when he tried to take a sip and realized there was nothing left. “I should put on another pot.”

She shook her head and pulled him to his feet, placing her hand on the small of his back as a bump in the road almost threw him off balance. He tightened his grip on her hand, then tried to pull away abruptly, but she held on, keeping him close.

His sleepy, trusting eyes tugged at her heart and she inhaled slowly, trying to steady herself as she looked down at his hand clasped in hers. Her pulse picked up a notch at the contact. Her hands were so rough, and she was used to men who were just as hard and strong—if not stronger—than she was. But the smoothness of his palm, the warmth of him, was…calming. This didn’t feel like a battle to prove who was tougher. She knew she was, but he brought out a gentler side of her.

Balthazar was right, she was treating him like a favorite recruit. Urging him on, pleased to see him busting his ass to surpass expectations.

But neither of them needed the blood, sweat, and tears to prove themselves.

The way he pushed himself was admirable. She wanted to see more of that. She also liked that he needed her to tell him when enough was enough.

“Come on. You’ll make me feel like a slacker if you don’t get some rest too.” She drew him toward the bunks. “Orion’s driving. Balthazar’s already gotten a good six hours. In a real bed, no less.”

Oakley sighed as they passed the curtains and he stepped up to his bunk, shaking his head. “The working is easier than even thinking about trying to sleep in there.”

Usually complaining didn’t faze her, but the way Oakley did it was damn cute. She could picture him staying awake for the next three days just so he could finally crash in a real bed too. He’d figure he’d put in the hours and earned the rest.

She had to teach him to take the downtime when he got it.

“We’re on tour for the next two months. You’ll spend more time on the bus than off it.” She reached out to pat the thin mattress. “It’s not five stars, but it’s also not a tarp in the jungle. You’ll get used to it.”

“We will get actual rooms soon. I can wait.”

“Oakley, this is not up for discussion. I won’t sleep unless you do, and you do not want to deal with me when I’ve reached my limit.”

With another heavy sigh, he moved to climb into the bunk.

She stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Get comfortable first.”

His lips parted. “I am comfortable.”

“You’re not sleeping fully dressed. Don’t be shy.” Shaking her head at his hesitation, she quickly pulled off her own shirt, her sports bra covering enough that she didn’t care if he saw it. But when she moved to undo her black jeans, he grabbed her wrist. “Oakley, it’s not—”

“I’ll turn around. You don’t have to…I’d never have a woman…” His cheeks went red and he looked away. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but this isn’t right. You shouldn’t have to strip in front of me to prove a point.”

Damn, she hadn’t even considered how out of the ordinary her stripping down would be for him. With her team she wouldn’t have hesitated. Sure, the first few times it was weird, but after years with the same guys, she’d lost the self-consciousness she’d had as a recruit. The men were like brothers. She didn’t get naked in front of them, but bra and boxer briefs? Who cared?

Right now, Oakley did. She didn’t know the protocol on tour for females, but she was trying to make this whole experience easier for him.

“I’m sorry, I should have realized this would be uncomfortable for you.” She groaned and reached for the shirt she’d tossed on the bunk under his. “I might see you as a new recruit, but you aren’t one.”

“Wait. You do?” He stared at her. “Vanessa, it’s not your job to train me.”

“I’m aware.”

“No, I don’t think you are.” His jaw hardened. “If you’re comfortable, that’s good. I want you to be. And Annette is used to having the guys around. I don’t want her hesitant with how she usually behaves because of me.” He shook his head and began unbuttoning his vest, his hands shaking. “I can do this. It’s no big deal. We all live here now and…”

“Oakley.” She put her hand over his, squeezing it when he drew in a rough breath. “You’re doing good. And you need time to adjust. It’s okay.”

“I can do this.” He pressed his eyes shut. “Why the hell does everything have to be so fucking difficult? Normal things that should be easy?” He let out a rough laugh. “And why must I wear so many buttons?”

She chuckled at the last, hoping to ease him back from the ledge of frustration intensified by exhaustion. “Because you’ve got a unique fashion sense I happen to enjoy. But I hope you’ve packed a few things for downtime, because you will be taking some.”

“We’ll see.”

“Nope. Wrong answer.” She brushed his hand away and undid the buttons of his vest. “If needed, I’ll see if one of the guys has something to loan you.”

He looked absolutely horrified. “Not unless you want to see me in a studded thong.”

Her lips curved slightly. “What if I do?”

His jaw almost hit the floor. He pressed his eyes shut and shook his head. “Lack of sleep has me hallucinating. You’re right. I need rest.”

Finished with his vest, she pushed it off his shoulders, setting the expensive silk piece aside before eying his black shirt. Taking care of him was more fun than she’d anticipated, but she didn’t want to make him uneasy. She’d already gone too far with the teasing.

Since when do you tease your recruits like that?

He was not a recruit.

He’s also not your type, Templar. Stop playing.

“You definitely need rest.” Her tone was sharper than she’d intended and he bit his bottom lip, looking confused. She continued, softer now. “I’m sorry, what I said was inappropriate. But I do want you comfortable.”

“I’m comfortable with you, Vanessa.” He quickly unbuttoned his shirt, shrugging it off, then shooting her a smile that said, “See, I can do this.”

She couldn’t help smiling back before pointing at his bunk. “And you’ll manage the sleeping arrangements?”

He inclined his head, bringing his hand to his chest in a self-conscious gesture, red staining the high curve of his light brown cheeks. She’d been right about him not being her type. There was an innocence to him. A newness that didn’t fit in her tough, jaded existence.

Still, that sleek, wiry body was worth a glance. Or two. With his shirt off she could see the light definition of muscles—not enough to peg him as a gym rat, but he wasn’t lazy. And damn it, he had the sexiest dip at the curve of his pelvis, which she got a glimpse of as he undid his belt, and she forced herself to look away.

He’d be fun to play with, and she’d amused herself with men like him when she was younger. Men with dancer’s bodies who could move in a way that was addictive. She did her best not to picture the way Oakley’s body would sway if he lost some of that self-conscious stiffness. If that hesitant smile would be a little naughty once he realized how much she enjoyed watching him. Picturing Oakley putting on a performance would not help her keep things professional.

Helping him undress wasn’t exactly professional. She smirked at herself as she climbed into her own bunk. This dry spell of hers had lasted too long if she needed to have ‘the talk’ with herself less than twenty-four hours after starting a new job. Besides, during her wild phase, she’d chewed up guys like Oakley and spit them out without a single regret.

They weren’t like him. They thought they were the ones using you.

Maybe, but that didn’t change the facts. As attractive as Oakley was, and as much as she enjoyed looking out for him, he was a client. She might be new at this job, but she knew messing with clients was forbidden.

Unless you’re someone like Balthazar, who is in a committed relationship with two of them.

Key word being committed.

Mom would say it’s about time you start considering—

“Shut up.” She grabbed her pillow and pressed her face into it with a soft groan. Was it too late to shop around for a vibrator? A nice quiet one?

She had a feeling she was going to need it.